caged
by saunatonttu
Summary: Because I'm hellbound. SNK AU. Character death.


A/N: SO, SNK AU OF FAIRY TAIL WOULD BE RLY FUCKING GREAT. But i don't do it justice. /shot

* * *

.caged.

_._

_._

_._

He wakes up gasping and sweating, surprisingly noiseless as his heavy-built body jolts up from the bed as though struck with lightning.

It takes a moment too long to realize that he's not in a dream; that he has fallen awake from a memory; that the smell of dust and uncleansed bodies is what his reality now consists of.

He takes a deep, rumbling breath and-

The memory hits hard, but only because it already was on his mind.

He grits his teeth together as he holds his head between his hands, hating a little more his weaknesses.

Then he gets up and moves swiftly and smoothly without waking up the Raijinshuu, and slips out from the barracks.

.

.

The air s hot and humid; his hair slips down and bangs nearly cover his eyes that glow in shades of orange in days like this.

Freed sweats along with him, in his three dimensional maneuver gear, the lush green hair ruffled up and oily from the lack of showers in the past few days.

Laxus smiles faintly; it must be a nightmare for someone with a penchant for cleanliness like Freed.

"Is that enough for the day, Laxus?" Freed asks, fingers nimbly working on the knots in the spring green hair.

Broken pieces of their blades lay scattered on the muddy ground, and somewhere thunder booms, breaking the spell between them.

Laxus looks up at the sky, lips tightening into a thin line. "Yeah, that's enough."

.

.

When Gildarts comes back without an arm and a leg, everyone turns grim – even Laxus, who previously made an effort to not give a shit about others but his teammates.

Natsu, Laxus observes, is restless; that fucking idiot wants to rush and bash in every titan's nonexistent (or what the hell, he doesn't know the anatomy of those things) skull. Not that he doesn't get the feeling, because he is pissed just as much, though for a different reason.

Those fucking titans.

He stares as Gildarts is silently taken to the hospital wing to get those wounds patched up, but despite Natsu's faith, Laxus doubts the old man will be getting back on a horse again just for the sake of killing titans.

Especially when he has a daughter.

Not that Cana's not doing the exact same thing as Gildarts; talk about being a father's daughter.

Laxus snorts again and takes a nap, and the uneasiness in his gut falters a little.

.

.

He receives a grim reminder of the reality they live in when Evergreen dies on a mission – she dies on Bixlow's arms, her hand clutching at his forearm as she makes him swear to tell Elfman that she loves him; she also makes Bixlow and Freed swear not to tell Elfman that she'd been pregnant, since that would only make the loss that much more unbearable.

Ever's eyes connect briefly with Laxus's, and those glossy lips curve up as she tilts her head, very princess- and Ever-like.

"Laxus..."

He obediently goes to hold her hand, stoic and awkward as ever as his fingers curl around hers in a gesture of genuine care. "You..." Laxus turns silent, licks at his dry lips, and continues. "Thank you... for everything, Ever." He can't find any other words; they are stuck inside him like a furball inside a cat's throat, and they choke him.

Ever's bloodstained lips smile at him, ginger and yet holding that pixie-like quality that Laxus has always been kind of weak to.

"I'm..." Ever's breathing is laborous, after her insistent demands of Bixlow and Freed, and her eyes fill with water. "I wish I coud have seen... the future with you people..."

Laxus grips her hand tighter. "Ever, you've done well," he says thickly, and a sort of out-of-place feeling settles inside him, "you... I couldn't have come this far without you guys."

She smiles another smile, blood dripping down from her lips, and it is a sight that is familiar to most of them by now – but even Freed's crying now, and Laxus is detached.

A single death in a world where death breathes behind every corner isn't momentous, and yet Laxus feels thoroughly disturbed as Ever's fingers uncurl and her eyelids slip shut.

.

.

Ever's body makes it back inside the walls, at least; Laxus breathes a sigh of relief when they're back, but cringes again when Elfman's shout of shock reaches an ear-shattering level.

.

.

He only cries privately when the watchful eyes of Freed and Laxus's grandfather aren't following him.

.

.

He dreams a lot about the past after Ever's death – he sees the past unfold itself before him in an exact manner, each scene more gruesome than the other.

His father, laughing maniacally as Titans stomp over the town as though it's made of nothing but straws.

His mother, screaming as she is lifted up into air, her limbs flailing frantically even as she gets eaten.

And he sees himself, a fragile young boy, in the midst of all chaos; crying and yelling and never quite attracting any of the titans' attention long enough-

-and then there's Freed, a boy two years younger than him, tugging him along, urging him to _run_-

Flashes of his grandpa dance behind his eyelids after the memory of Freed's hand in his, and it's usually at this point where Laxus is startled awake with a gasp.

.

.

He hates his father, who is not even around but still alive in some part of this fucked up world; it's a hatred that digs deep into his soul and draws him away from his only family – the Survey Corps.

Ever's death doesn't change that; neither does Freed's undying loyalty nor the nights spent on drinking with Bixlow.

Ivan's cackling laughter and that beard, blacker than the nights in wintertime, still come to him in dreams – too often, too much these days, and Laxus feels the age-old anger sizzling in his veins.

.

.

"Laxus."

It's hard to see anything of Ivan in Makarov Dreyar, and Laxus is glad Ivan didn't take after him; the dreams are a bad enough a reminder of the past already.

"Gramps."

He tilts his head back, crosses his legs – a posture which radiates defiance, especially as he taps his fingers on his forearms.

Makarov merely sighs, hands working on his gray hair that had once been as brilliant shade of gold as Laxus's.

"You have been increasingly reckless during your missions," Makarov starts, straight-to-the-point as usual, and Laxus just rolls his eyes.

"Not this lecture again," Laxus interrupts, voice stony as he straightens himself while mentally curling further away from his grandfather. "Been here, talked about this before, and I'm just doin' my job as well as I can, as always. Not a problem with that."

_Besides, Natsu's just as reckless_, he thinks, and the thought shows on Makarov's face as well.

"I'm not speaking as the Big Boss of the Survey Corps here, Laxus," Makarov says lowly, eyes intent on Laxus's carefully relaxed face. "I'm saying this as your grandfather-"

"And I still don't care," is the last thing that leaves Laxus's mouth as he stands up and leaves, draping his jacket around him as he walks off.

.

.

It's easy to walk away from people that care and towards the unyielding, uncaring mouths of Titans.

.

.

But he will not die; he will stand on many more corpses before his time comes.

And he'll go out with a bang.


End file.
